


May 21st, '75

by orphan_account



Category: Magical Mystery Tour - The Beatles (Album), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, I love Linda, John is a writer, M/M, Moving On, Multi, and might be fighting negative reviews of Paul's work, cuz he's a homie and that what homies do, have you seen linda????, john is happy for paul, linda and john are dick sisters, linda is amazing, not beta read we die like men, paul is nervous, paul loves linda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: with every aspect of their lives monitored it's hard to believe that anything happened without the publics' knowledge, but still, a meeting held dear by all involved managed to escape the all-seeing eyes and for a moment, John finds respite in the country home of a mullet dad.
Relationships: Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, Minor or Background Relationship(s), minor/past/John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	May 21st, '75

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really read this for edits cuz it's a oneshot so sorry for the mistakes dude. hope u enjoy ur fic my twitter dude pls don't roast mee i tried and i even adde more mcln cuz i noticed u liked it but if u don't then my bad

The world went on after the Beatles disbanded in 1970, it was just one more thing that marked the end of the decade, the band ended just as the decade did, 

lacking the youthful optimism forgetting the 'kumbaya' and everything they believed in Because in the end they all grew up, They all grew apart, and they all learned, you need a hell of a lot more than love, music, and friends,

And so they sought after it, John, leaving Paul behind in every sense for something more acceptable in Yoko, George, with pattie, Ringo with Maureen, and Paul, back at the game with Linda. 

It seemed the only one who's marriage wasn't falling apart and in deep disrepair, was the latter. 

It seemed one former Beatle seemed to be recreating the dream that died. 

John chewed on his bottom lip as he stared down at the words he had written, He couldn't very well talk about things only  _ He  _ knew, it'd be obvious then. A shrill ring made him jump from the writing headspace, He picked it up and just from the intake of breath on the other side, he knew who it was.

"Hello, John, it's me- Paul," he cut off to nervously laugh. "What did you do?" John cut off. "I need to tell Linda," He blurted "about..us," He added after a while of silence. 

"Oh, I thought she already knew," John muttered. He could practically see the other man, chewing on his thumbnail, his brows scrunched up and that 'caught in the headlights' look in his eyes. 

"So you're okay if I tell her?" Paul asked "Won't this affect me coming over-" "No! no, I don't think so. She's very... understanding, y'know?" 

"Just... don't go into details," John replied. "Cause my wife has such need to know how to make you scream-" "You're a father! you know that don't you?" John bit with no real venom. Making the other laugh. 

"See you soon, bye love," Paul bid, leaving John alone. See, the thing with Paul McCartney was that he had the remarkable ability to fill the room with his presence with just the sound of his voice, It was almost like he was there, leaning his elbow on John's shoulder reading over his work. 

But now He was alone in his cold apartment, the effects of the infectious smile heard on Paul's voice wearing off and John looked down at his typewriter, Finding it harder now, to write impartially about this topic. 

The remarkable thing with writing was, that once you get going, you fall into this sort of trance where you ignore everything else, and it all these words come from your mind and before he can even register that  _ He  _ thought of them! Which got him a great deal of trouble more than a few times with this particular hobby. 

You could never be too careful, he learned. You can put too much emotion in your work, it doesn't go away when you send it off, it stays out there on a great big screen for the world to look at and have their own  ** wrong  ** opinions on. 

He once was accused of 'wanting to suck McCartney's dick' which despite it being true in the past, was rather infuriating when he put so much into a piece for it to be "why don't you bend over, make it easier for him" in return. 

So, despite other authors and journalists showing their bias, John could not, and maybe that's for the best. 

He lost track of time, writing sentimental nonsense that would have to be scrapped, he'd read through it and find what he could use, what he could use if he tweaked it a bit, and what could only be burned. 

He pulled the paper from the typewriter and grabbed a pen, going over everything, once, twice before He started the edits, Humming along to the radio as he did so.

Paul McCartney seems to have proven himself more than a pretty face, although his face is still pretty. He's on the top of his game, exceeding all expectations Because as many who've known him have said, that's what he does and christ If he didn't do it well. 

McCartney (now 33) plans on releasing a new album later this year, with the creative force behind many of the Beatle's greatest albums, He has a lot to live up to but given his perfectionist nature and need to best his own expectations, and subsequently, all of us in the stands watching, I'm looking forward to hearing what he puts out.

Again, John was interrupted by a call. He looked out his window, it must've been well past noon. "Hello?" He greeted. "are you coming?" Paul asked. "I got caught up with work, sorry mate, I can come tomorrow, I know you've got tiny ones, around," John replied."

"You could come and stay the night? if you'd like," Paul offered. "you already tell Lin?" John asked instead. "Yeah... but really John, she's alright, she said she doesn't mind," he promised. 

John chewed his lip and sighed. "This isn't some sort of swinger thing, is it?" 

There was silence for a second that seemed to last forever before a boisterous laugh sounded through the receiver. "Swingers?! you think we're swingers?" he asked still all too amused. 

"Why else would you be so set on me staying the night?" John asked. "I miss you, You daft fool! not everything is about sex," Paul admitted, his laughter dying down finally. John arched a brow, failing to mention that Paul himself had been the one to urge that their affair was merely about that. Sex and the convenience of having it with your best mate. 

"Alright alright, I'll take the first train out there in the morning," John promised, continuing his writing as he spoke. "You'll spend two days with us?" Paul asked. 

"Maybe, I have work I need to do, though-" "You can bring whatever you need, or use something of mine, it'll be like old times," Paul interrupted with a grin, as though he had it all planned out, a whole album, to kick off the Lennon-McCartney reunion. 

It was universally known, at this point, that Paul and Linda McCartney were irrespirable, they were two peas in a pod, soulmates, two bodies one soul, Whatever shit you could come up with to avoid simply saying; happy, and in love with each other. 

John knew this, he did, but this did not stop him from watching the couple interact as he walked through the station. 

It was a surprise, that both came, it was a surprise that one did, but John supposed if he was' in Linda's place he wouldn't let his husband run off to his ex-lover, either. Paul walked by his side, and by his side, there was Linda.

At times it seemed like her thin hand was all that was keeping the man from jumping just a bit too high as he spoke animatedly, and simply flying away. "Don't you think?" Paul asked with a grin, and John was suddenly smacked with the realization that he hadn't been listening to the hyper ramblings of his friend. 

He glanced at Linda, who smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I get what you mean," He agreed and hoped for the best. Paul hummed, turning to look at Linda with an 'I told you so' look of triumphant. 

He felt less like Paul's ex-lover and more of one of his kids, as he rode in the back seat of his car, watching Linda's hand reach over the great big divide and place her hand on Paul's thigh and suddenly, the distance was lilliputian in a matter of a second. 

It was nothing more than a chaste action of reassurance, as even John, Who'd only now reconnected with him, could see, the nervous habit he never could break of biting his lip, 

how he tapped on the steering wheel as he drove, how his throat bobbed whenever he glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, and the wide-eyed, 'I have to get everything right or it'll all fall on me,' look in his eyes, John caught these things with ease, a glance whispered the younger man's anxieties to him.

But still, John, he never could calm him down from the seemingly unending fear he had. But she did, she relaxed him with just a touch, a squeeze and hum, and she made John wonder, how that never worked for him. 

As it turns out, Paul had asked if he was okay to see his kids, which he only realized when they pulled into a driveway, that wasn't Paul's and suddenly the back seat was a bit more crowded, but it was fine, they were cute, sweet. 

Soon Paul pulled into his driveway and they all hopped out, John helped the wee things out, handing Stella off to Paul, who planted a kiss on her forehead. 

As the family marched in, not really paying John any mind, he lingered, watching as Paul kissed Linda before they went into the house, and when John made it into the house, he didn't find a clean, sterile house, he found a home. 

One with little kids drawings and polaroids pinned on the walls, knickknacks, shoes tossed about on the floor, toys and sweaters on the sofa. It felt like  _ Home.  _

It felt so peaceful and yet, he felt like an outsider, as though he saw this from a show, and he- he didn't belong here, he knew that.

He picked up the photo laying on top of the coffee table, It was of Paul, grinning ear from ear as he held Stella in his arms. He lived in a dream. John thought to himself. And yet, when he glanced up at Paul, who'd taken off his coat and now just anxiously watched him stare at a private photo. 

"Nice photo," He said holding it out to his friend. "Linda's got a gift," He added.  _ He knows Linda has a gift he married her, you dunce!  _

"Thanks, she does," he replied, Looking at Linda who had abandoned her husband in favor of preparing to feed their children. He was so stiff. John wanted him just to breathe for a bit. Just- anything. He didn't have to make it feel like he was taking his virginity. 

But John understood the other's fear, of it all falling on top of him and leaving him crippled because five years ago, it did.

"I heard you're putting out a new record," John started. "anything chance I get a family discount on getting one?" He joked with a smile. 

"I didn't know you listened," Paul admitted, His brows raised high on his forehead. "of course I listen, I've got all yer records," He corrected with a sigh. "You're putting me on, aren't you?" "I'm not I really liked 'nineteen hundred and eighty-five" John convinced. 

Boy did that do the trick, he seemed to light up when he realized that he really was listening. "Oh well we have an album coming out very soon, would you like to hear some songs?" He asked with a hopeful sort of grin. John isn't a monster and nodded. 

Paul dragged him away, down the baby-photo covered hallway to his office. While Paul went to put on his record on John looked around, stopping in front of a photo hung on the wall.

It was them. He remembered that day, magical mystery tour. It was just a slip of the tongue, on Paul's part, too strung out to register his mistake, 

But in the bathroom stall, where they'd snuck in to have a quickie, he first admitted his daddy kink. Overdoing it, if you asked John, but he turned around and laid on the ground. That's how you listen to new music, it was a universal truth.

He watched as Paul bounced and moved with a clumsiness that was edged with anxiety but he did nothing to calm him, he stayed, on the rug that really should be thrown out, and listened. 

When the first song bled into the second and John grinned. "Oh! that was nice!" He exclaimed. "this song gets me pumped, It'll do great," 

He could practically feel Paul's smile grow wider with every compliment.

"You really would be great in a musical, but you can't act for shit," He teased, sitting up and Pulling the other man down to the floor with him. So they sat cross-legged, crowding the turn-table like they were starry-eyed teens. 

John hummed along to the songs he liked the best he could. "You're still on your granny shit," He summarized because it was easier to say than 'Holy shit, maybe you were onto something, it's really good.' and the lengthy article he'd spew out if he didn't bite his lip. 

Paul dimmed, taking it wrong, again. He scratched the back of his head, smiling to save face, like always, Before saying; "It's charming!" 

Some things, John realized, never change, despite how much everything else did. "It is, It's very nice, I really like that it felt... pulled together, like an album," John praised, patting the other's shoulder. "shoulda had you on piano more," He added. 

"You mind if I smoke?" John asked, and he could see the deer in the headlights look again. "Linda doesn't like it around the kids," Paul replied. John smiled, looking down at his hands before letting out a sigh. 

"How is she, by the way?" John asked "Linda? She's lovely, I think she's happy-" 

"Of course she's happy, Paul, don't be dense. How is she, with all the critics and press?" John interrupted. "Aren't you going to ask how I am with the press?" He pouted. "So you can dance around it? the things they say about her- Jealous nonsense if you ask me," John muttered.

"I was under the impression you didn't like her either," "I like her fine, You on the other hand..." John fired back. "I know, I know, I'm miserable," Paul played along, unknowing if his friend even meant it as a joke. 

"dreadful, some would say," John replied with a grin, hoping to convey years of miscommunication with what lied in-between. 

But you couldn't always rely on unsaid, or the hinted, as Paul let out a chuckle before raising to his feet. "I should check on the kids, unfair to leave her all alone with them, all hyper," He explained, holding out his hand to pull John up.

"We're getting old, Paul, look at us, me a man still struggling with being too sexy, and you a domesticated philanderer," John sighed dramatically, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.

Paul merely smiled, pulling the man to his feet sharply. "Former philanderer, I'll have you know," he replied. "Linda would chop my balls off," He adds with a knowing chuckle. "And we're not that old yet," Paul glared, leading the way to the kitchen. 

But John lingered in the hallway, frozen as he stared at all the family photos. Paul holding one of his girls at the hospital. He looked so happy to be a dad there, despite it all, he was happy to be holding his kid. Then a few of him playing and holding the kids, the babies growing from the gaps between one frame to the other. 

Paul grew happier, easier, maybe in each photo. He was never like this with him, this broad smile and look in his eyes, he never was this... sure and gentle. Then there was him and Linda, Their arms around each other and her face hidden in his neck as she kissed his pulse, or told him a secret. 

It didn't surprise him that Paul's home was just that, a home. He knew so soon, within an hour of really talking to him that this was where it would gom this was the ending for paul.

Everything, everyone else was just a bit of fun or bumps on the way to  _ this.  _ John wasn't quite sure how to describe how he was feeling if he had seen this, been here when he was six years younger, the feelings would be easy. Jealous rage, confusion, rejection, bitterness, the usual 'scorned lover' emotional happy meal. 

But this, it wasn't that. He walked down the hallway, taking note of each dent in the wood panels, every photo that was just a bit crooked.

He associated Paul with warmth, comfort, domesticity, it's no surprise his home would be so very  _ him _ too. When he got to the end of the hallway, he found Paul with his arms around Linda's waist, saying something John couldn't hear, as she smiled and prepared dinner. 

The older kids helped set the table, as the youngest sat in front of the tv, And it felt like the world shifted, not so much as 'It's all coming down' as it was 'oh now I see' feeling you get when the puzzle you're working on starts coming together. 

But it wasn't as though he was doing the puzzle more like watching someone else finish a puzzle from the comfort of his sofa. 

Linda looked up, making eye contact with him, subtly nudging Paul so that he lets go, but he didn't he just continued to rest his chin on her shoulder, but now, he looked at John, a relaxed smile on his lips, one that John couldn't help but contract. 

He felt as though he was forced into a happy movie, this wasn't real. "So, what have you been working on? Paul said you pushed it back because of work," Linda called, bringing him closer. "Oh, just some writing, nothing all that interesting," John disregarded.

She hummed, not completely convinced as she watched John begin to help set the table. That's the thing with Linda, Like her husband, She wasn't dumb. She watched, noticed things as they were and not how they should have been. A true photographer.

for everything, John had been to very few proper family dinners, like one that everyone loved each other. Paul sat Stella into her seat with a kiss to the top of her head and Linda put a plate of food in front of her. 

Throughout the dinner, one of the clan would ask a question, and it would go off, everyone bursting into an animated discussion or a funny story and it was like all the awkward bitterness broke away. To be honest it felt as though John a tarot card in a stack of playing cards, but being visibly out of place does not always mean you're unwanted. 

No, John was wanted, an honored guest by everyone at the table (especially Heather who Linda tried to keep from asking for an autograph or photo or whatever she could come up with). 

But still, he hesitated, what do you say to the man you publicly bashed, what can you say to his kids? This only grew when it ended, Linda insisted to wash the dishes, and the kids went to do homework, and so, it left John and Paul to their own devices.

So the pair wandered, Paul mostly following John and watching as the man stopped to look at something on the wall or a knickknack on a shelf.

Paul's anxiety was too much, as John picked apart the little bit of heaven the younger man had pried from the world, as one would be when an ex-lover was scrutinizing the reason you left them for. 

But that's not what John was doing. He was simply looking at the life his friend created for himself, away from it all, away from what everyone wanted him to be, he was himself in this home. 

That was someone John hadn't seen in a very long time, So John looked around, the fond smile growing more noticeable as he did so, and Paul looking a bit like a lost puppy, following him around.

"You're so quiet," Paul said, biting his thumbnail. "is it a bad quiet?" He added after a breath. "no, no- it's just you settled down exactly like I thought you would have," John admitted. Paul furrowed his brows, to him this was everything, the old sofa, the drawings from his loved ones, falling into bed with someone who loved him, it was everything, and by the tone of his voice, it was being laughed at.

"And what's wrong with that?" he asked with a frown. "nothing, paul, It's just... I'm glad you got it," John eased with a smile. "You're not just putting me on?" Paul asked. "don't be so dramatic, baby, I'm just- happy you got it," John admitted pinching Paul's cheek. 

There was a snap, a flash and the sound of a polaroid being pushed out, but the pair didn't notice and that was alright. She was happy the duo was getting better. 

The day slowed but went all too fast, and soon the sun was setting and all too fast did John find himself being led to a patio chair by Linda, She held a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other and a camera around her neck. 

Another thing about Linda is that she knew too much, just by watching. So it was that's why it wasn't that much of a fright when after she poured them both a glass she smiled a dreamy sort of look falling over her eyes as she watched Paul chase the wee ones. 

"You know, I knew You were in love with Paul from the first time I saw you guys on Ed Sullivan," She started, as though she waited for right after he took a drink. 

He coughed, bringing his hand to his lips in a poor attempt to keep the red liquor from spewing from his mouth. "Did you?" he asked after calming down and wiping his mouth. 

"Yep, it was the way you fussed over him, watched him," She admitted, taking a long sip. "The way you looked at his ass," Linda teased, as she turned her gaze to where John's landed. 

"old habits?" she teased with a smirk. "What else can I say but we have a great taste in men?" John replied clinking their glasses together with a grin. "can I ask you something?" Linda asked after a pause. 

"I'm not gonna steal him- I don't want him," John reassured. "No, no, not that but thanks," "it's just..." she took a sip. "was he into spanking then too?" She asked. "Oh god yes! he had such a heavy hand! and it took forever for him to say he didn't even like it and thought I did!" 

Linda laughed along with John, shaking her head softly. "Cheers to paul, for making us better at tying knots," Linda said softly, raising her glass in Paul's form, which came closer as the seconds passed, wee tots in tow like a mother duck. 

Linda, ever the busy artist grabbed her camera and snapped a few before they came too close, and when Paul made it to her chair he leaned down, trapping her with his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

"Hey baby," he muttered. "hey, dear," she replied just as whispered. "hey uncle John!" Stella said climbing onto the man's lap.

"Hey sweetie, How was your day?" John asked, setting his glass on the table. "It was fun, how was yours?" "Better than most times I have visited the McCartney family home," "what happened the most times?" Linda asked, Pulling the man to sit on her knee. 

"Dad chased him off with a broom for kissin' gin under the mistletoe, it was a whole thing! I had to say i was out with George for months!" Paul exclaimed. 

"it wasn't that bad!" John argued. "It was! gin was fine, of course, call him cheeky, and muttered about being '20 years younger' but pa was fuming!" "until she pointed out that it was just a silly tradition," John reminded. 

He wanted it to stay, peaceful like this, just a bit longer, but the tiny ones needed bathing and tucked into bed, that's when John played Linda and snapped a picture of the family.

Linda and Paul on one bed and the kids sitting on the other, listening to the story the pair told as though it was something much more magical than two tired parents coming up with whatever they could to sedate their kids. 

Then it was back to the living room, lounging on the sofa liquor in their bellies and fire in their eyes. "What happened to us?" Paul asked finally, draping himself across John, who merely shrugged. 

"No really! we used to be so close... even before," "we grew apart, grew bitter, I don't know," John admitted, pushing the other man's hair out of his face. Maybe out of habit, falling back into something that was. Something that has long grown dilapidated, but never forgotten quite fully. 

For a while, both just stared at each other, like in the old days, counting wrinkles that are etched into their skin.

John's hand still tangled in a mess of hair, before he pulled away, taking a drink and turning to look at Linda, who had taken it upon herself to capture the moment. A moment of understanding passed in a drunken, clumsy way.

And then, John patted Paul's chest, bringing the man out of his spell and waking him up to the world. "I've got to leave early, I best be getting ready, mind if I use your shower?" He asked Linda. 

"Of course, I already the kids put your bag in the guest house," She said, "Paul, why don't you help him?" She added and so, with much effort and a great low grunt, Paul pushed himself up (with the help of John) 

"you wanna sleep here or in the guest house?" Paul asked, and after he did the room stilled with a sense of urgency and heaviness, Linda smiled softly, before grabbing the dishes. 

"Do you guys have a preference?" John asked raising to his feet. "No, it's whatever you want, duckie," Linda replied. "I'll take the guest house," John decided. "Alright, I'll show you to it," Paul said, Kissing Linda chastely, leaning into whatever she whispered into his ear after they parted before leading the way to the guest house. 

John thought it odd, having to be escorted to the building since It was visible from the living room, but nevertheless, he followed the other man. 

Paul unlocked the door and walked in. "This is mostly where the parents stay when they visit, so you should be comfortable," He explained spreading his arms to show the surrounding. "I'm sure, it's very nice, thanks," John said, closing the door before moving to meet Paul in the center of the room.

He waited, watching the man open his mouth and close it, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he bounced on his heels, He was waiting to say something, a sign. This John knew, anyone could. 

But even John had trouble knowing quite what the man had in mind. The man was always so surprising that you'll set out what he'll do given by his habits, traits, and opinions and he'll simply smile and do something completely different. 

So John waited, slipping off his shoes and undoing his belt. "You mind? It's unbearably tight, Linda's dinner was too good to stop eating," John complimented, sitting the belt on the sofa. 

"would you wanna stay for a spill?" John asked mostly because he knew that's what the other man wanted. "I'm gonna smoke a bit," John informed reaching his bag, digging through it before he frowned. 

"I have some," Paul muttered, finding his voice that he left at the door once again. "of course you have some, Mr 'sweet banana' but where is mine?" John asked furrowing his brows. 

"is yours special?" Paul asked coming closer. "Well- it's mine," John replied "and I wanna take a bath and smoke," he added. "I'll give you some of mine," Paul decided, moving to a little trinket box that sat on the fireplace mantle. 

John sighed, turning on the radio before sitting down on the sofa next to the other man as he started to roll a joint. He seemed so stiff, his shoulders hunched and tense, so set on the task at hand that he was dead to the world around him.

John had to search his memories for how he used to make him come out of this before finding all those faulty, then he thought what would Linda do. 

So, drawing from the many interviews and times he's seen he crossed the distance and rested his hand gently on the man's thigh, gently squeezing it to get his attention. 

That it did, the poor lad jumped outta his skin, looking at his old friend with wide eyes. 

"You're so anxious," John muttered, snatching the almost assembled joint from Paul's lax fingers, sealing it with a lick before digging around his pockets for a lighter. 

"Want first hit? it's your weed," John offered, holding it out to him. "might loosen you up, some too," He added after the other man took it. 

"trying to seduce a married man, are we?" Paul asked leaning into the flame John's lighter supplied. "thought I'd pay you back," John played along. "You're much harder to get than I was, you know," he added.

Paul arched a brow, blowing smoke into John's face before sighing. "You just want me less than when i was the other woman, and besides, we were together first" He informed with a nod. 

"that's true, I guess," John replied with a shrug. "Do you still love me?" Paul blurted. John blinked, looking at the man with worry written all over his face. "Of course, what's wrong?" John asked. 

"what? nothings wrong, I just..." Paul hesitated, taking a drag. "what do you want? I can't be your boyfriend-" "Paul what are you on about? You think I came all the way to the middle of nowhere for what? a quickie while your wife, who adores you, worries in your bed?" John asked. 

"Christ Paul! is that why she offered the guest house?" John asked. Paul hopelessly opened his mouth before John's voice silenced anything he had to say. 

"How would that even work? family introductions Linda says 'here's my husband, and his boyfriend' that's so stupid!" he ranted. "I just thought we could redo, the ending y'know, just... softer," Paul admitted. 

"why? it's done, you have what you've always wanted, you have it all, and you're taking steps backward, you weren't happy with me, not at the end why bother opening that again?" John asked. 

"what do you want?" "My best friend! you're more than just a fuck man, I just... missed you," John admitted. "maybe I gave you the wrong signals, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to meet your kids, they're so big," 

If you've ever known someone as private with their emotions as Paul McCartney was, you'll know just how John felt when suddenly the man was in tears, elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands, curled into himself like he'd been hit in the gut. 

John hesitated, He reached out for the other man but let his hand fall limply on the sofa in the space between them. "come on, it's an honest mistake, so many fans wanna fuck me," he tried, patting the man on his back. 

Paul let out a watery huff of a laugh, taking a drag before letting it go with a shuddering breath. "thank you, for your understanding," He played along. 

"of course, it happens all the time, buck up and I'll give you a kiss," John promised, as though he was simply a fan and not Paul. 

"Linda's probably worried," John commented. "she's counting down the minutes," Paul replied. "She was okay, with you sleeping with me? she's more 'understanding' than I thought," John said. "She was okay if I wanted to leave her for you," Paul informed. "Shit! Yoko would have my head if she even knew I was in the same country as you," 

Paul took a breathe, rolling his shoulders and wiping his face and there he was, back together again, if not for the redness at the tip of his nose and puffiness under his eyes you'd not have guessed he ever needed to touch up the paint. 

John would have kept Paul the whole night, smoking, joking, and having fun but far too early in the morning did he have a plane to catch, too many things he had to do, people he promised to see, and so with a sigh and pat on Paul's knee he asked;

"I'm going to start the shower, can you grab some clothes for me?" He stood up and did as he said. He leaned against the counter and sighed. 

He opened the cabinet, pulling out soaps and oils and bubbles and pouring some into the tub, then he went and found a little radio and sat it on the table next to the tub. 

He watched the tub fill up vacantly before it was filled and still, no sign of Paul, So pushing himself off the counter he made his way back to the living room and finding him on the sofa, paper in hand. 

"What you got there?" John asked, looking over his shoulder. "you've been writing about me?" Paul asked furrowing his brows. John snatched the paper from the other man's hands. "I only start when you had such negative reviews, and Linda, they were bullying you for not being what they wanted," John admitted. "I'm sorry I'll stop-"

"you- wrote about me," Paul repeated staring at the man. "I've read Your articles! how didn't I know it was you?" "I'm sorry," "did you mean what you've said?" "Every word of it," John replied.

Paul looked torn, looking down at his hands then back to John. "I thought you were just being nice," He exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm keeping this, and I expect the first issue you wrote," He said, sobering up. "What for?" John asked already handing it over. 

"I wanna have it framed, the great John Lennon eating his words!" Paul said. "Linda Loves your work! I love your work and it's you!" Paul exclaimed with a grin, rising to his feet. 

"Night Paul," John bid, walking him to the door. He watched the man's silhouette retreat into the house, turning off the lights before disappearing from view completely. 

He woke up in the morning, the sound of knocking on the door stealing his attention from his packing. He opened the door to find the smallest of the McCartneys at his doorstep. "breakfast is ready!" She said, grabbing hold of his hand before leading him to the house. 

He entered and was met by the smell of heaven. Being dragged into the kitchen he found Paul, Linda, Mary, and Heather all in the kitchen.

Paul and Linda being the strong contenders of 'doing the most in the goodbye breakfast'. "We made your favorite!" Stella said with glee.

"So you did, It looks great!" He encouraged. He picked up the small girl and spun her around. "Wanna hear about the time your dad's butt caught on fire?" He asked with a grin. "Was he lying?" Mary asked from her mom's side. 

"noo he was riding on the hood of a car, we were hitchhiking, the only place for him to sit was on top of the engine," John started, helping them to set the table. 

"well, eventually he starts complaining about being hot, and we're like 'yeah paul okay suck it up' but then he says 'No I'm really hot!' and sure enough his pants caught, so here's me and George yanking Paul's jeans off in the middle of the road like a bunch of teen girls!" John laughed at the image, the children giggling along at the mention of 'butt' 

"left a scar right on his butt," John finished with a grin. "it's not funny, had to sleep on my stomach for months after that," Paul muttered with a grin. 

Soon the meal was finished, the dishes were cleaned and the tops of very small McCartney's heads were kissed, sent off with a tight hug and promise to visit soon, It left only John, Paul, and Linda. 

"I've gotta stay, but Paul will take you to the airport," She said, "come again soon, and please make sure to remember the first article," she said, taking him into her arms. "I'll send it out, first thing when I get back, I promise," John reassured. 

"Well then," She says slapping a lilac-colored envelope into his hands. "don't open it till you get home," she said and that was it, he got in the car with Paul and they drove off.

He hardly remembered the ride, only the fact that Paul was lucky to have Linda.

As they rode down winding country roads he simply believed more than ever that they were made for each other,

and that he was happy they found each other. 

'home' to John will always be Aunt Mimi's house, so the moment he crashed down to her sofa he opened the lilac envelope to find some polaroids of him and Paul, and on the back, written with a black marker was; 

'May 21st '75 Paul + John 'thank you for looking out for us, even if you were kinda a dick while doing it,'' 


End file.
